


Better than sex

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jealous Jaime Lannister, Modern Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 09:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne makes an innocent comparison one night at dinner which bothers Jaime, driving him nuts.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 22
Kudos: 259





	Better than sex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts).

> For Ro. A little surprise. I hope you like it :)

“Mind-blowing,” gushed Brienne, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss as she licked the strawberry sauce off her lips. “Absolutely heavenly!”

What followed was a series of _hmmmms_ and _aahs _and heavy sighs, and Jaime sat upright, for a wild second, wishing _he_ were the ice cream that clung enticingly to her lips. His mind taking off on the road he’d been hesitant to trespass on all these years, he began picturing himself doing _things_ to her, things he’d never done to any woman before, things that _affected _him in ways that weren’t fit for public consumption.

“Better than sex,” she emphatically declared, her voice thick and achingly seductive, and he felt his jeans tighten around his groin, the detailed replay of the images in his head getting raunchier as he launched into a detailed mental analysis of every twitch, every movement of her facial muscles.

“How can you say that?” Tormund butted in, putting an unpleasant break to Jaime’s erotic daydreams. “Food can’t be compared to sex,” he asserted, eyeing Brienne as if she were a juicy piece of meat waiting to be devoured. “Unless,” he went on, tossing her a suggestive smirk which tempted Jaime to reach out across the table and re-shape his nose with a well-aimed punch, “_ you _ haven’t had your best sex yet.” 

Brienne laughed away his uncomfortable and bordering on offensive observation. Whether she was put off by his comment or not, Jaime couldn’t say. “Maybe,” she agreed, “but I’d rather not discuss this any further.”

“He’s right, you know,” muttered Bronn beside him, audible to no one but Jaime. “You have a chance to prove him wrong, though. I know you’ve been wanting to fuck her for ages. Ask her out. This is your best opportunity--”

“Shut up,” said Jaime in an angry whisper, his jaw tightening with the worsening _ situation _in his pants. Desperate to rid himself of this agony, he resorted to the quickest solution he could come up with before matters got out of his control, distracting himself with his boss, Stannis’ unpleasant scowl instead of the gasps and moans of the woman he adored.

”Aye, but you better watch out,” Bronn hissed a warning. “Do something or else Ginger might get there before you.”

Before Jaime could tell him to fuck off, Tormund went a step further with his indecent proposal, “I can prove you wrong,” he boasted, grinning lecherously. “Sex far exceeds any other means of pleasure, Brienne, and I--”

“That’s enough,” Jaime barked, jumping to his feet, his abrupt display of agitation drawing the attention of all the eyes at the table. “I mean--” he took in a gulp of air, trying to douse the raging inferno that consumed him “--I need to borrow Brienne for a while,” he bluffed, cooking up a valid reason which no one could question. “It’s for the meeting--”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, Jaime,” Brienne pointed out suspiciously, thankfully snapping out of her orgasmic trance.

“For Monday’s meeting,” Jaime insisted, his eyes explaining the rest to hers, hoping she’d stop questioning him and take his bloody hint. “I have a few things to discuss, so why don’t I walk you home so we can use the time and talk on the way?”

“Can’t you do it later?” Tormund grunted, displeased at having been interrupted.

“Nope,” Jaime shot him down as scathingly as he could, determined to do everything in his power to shield her from his dirty glances and lewd suggestions. Ginger following her around the office like a smitten puppy wasn’t something he could do much about, but outside work hours, and that too on a Friday night with the wench half-drunk, he couldn’t afford to risk the possible outcomes. 

Not at any cost. Not if he could help it.

“Come on, Brienne,” he sternly called out once they’d settled their share of the bill.

She frowned, but did as told, the duo leaving the restaurant after bidding the others good night.

“Alright, out with it, Lannister,” she confronted him the moment they stepped outside. “Why did you drag me out like this? We both know there’s no meeting scheduled on Monday, then why this drama? You were fine all evening, what went wrong--”

His jaw clenched, Jaime glared at her. “Better than sex, huh?” he demanded, Tormund’s loose talk and Brienne’s lack of offense at it sending his temper rising again. “Did you have to bring up your love life in public? That too in front of that Ginger who’s been waiting to gobble you up like a man starved for years.”

She halted, and with her hands on her hips, faced his accusation with an aggressive stance he hadn’t expected. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she flippantly dismissed his concern. “I’m a big girl. I can tackle guys flirting with me.”

Jaime met her infuriated glare with an impatient click of his tongue, exasperated that she failed to gauge the true intent behind the man’s words. “That wasn’t flirting. He wants to get into your pants.”

“His wanting alone isn’t enough,” she argued, stubborn as always, refusing to see sense. “I’ll only sleep with him if _ I _ want to, so it doesn’t matter if he--”

“Do you?” he stopped her, ignoring the constriction in his chest that was beginning to squeeze the hell out of him. “Do you want to sleep with him, Brienne?” he phrased the question as bluntly as he could, hoping the rising fear within him was unwarranted. 

When she didn’t immediately answer, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t picture the wench with any man except himself. Years, he’d lost, rather whiled away, backing off, developing cold feet whenever he’d thought of telling her how he felt about her, and for years, luck had been kind to him, denying the wench a boyfriend. Barring a fling or two here and there, she hadn’t found the right guy to settle down into a steady relationship.

_ If I fuck it up tonight, she’ll soon be Mrs. Ginger… or Mrs. Hunt or Mrs. Some-other-fucking-idiot and I’m going to be watching her walk down the aisle with one of these cunts. _

She blinked a few times, then flicked her tongue across her lips and hesitantly replied, “That’s none of your concern.” 

Within a span of a few minutes, her body language had shifted from drunkenly friendly and loose-tongued to stiff and fidgety and uncomfortable in his presence. “I can walk home by myself, Jaime,” she mumbled, an indication that it was time to leave her alone, “I--”

“Answer me,” he persisted, unwilling to let her go until she’d made matters clear, “and then you can leave.”

Clumsily shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she began playing with her fingers, probably deliberating whether to entertain him or not. “No, I’m not interested in him,” she said at last, and Jaime felt his chest relax, the weight he’d been sinking under lifted after a traumatic few seconds. Once the wave of fear had passed, his heart did a little tap-dance, motivating him, pushing him to be bold enough to do what he ought to have done ages back. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” she brusquely dismissed him, then turned to call a taxi.

“Why did you bring up sex?” he inquired, curious, and she flipped back at him, her face the colour of the prettiest roses he’d seen.

“I dunno,” she vaguely replied, “it just popped up in my head.”

“While I can’t stand Ginger, I do agree with him on one front,” Jaime revealed, the visions of him doing unspeakable things to the wench returning to invade his head. “Food can’t be compared to sex. You just haven’t had your best time yet.” 

Her eyes molten fire and hands on her hips again, she shot another angry bolt at him. “Easy for you to say. You can have any woman you want, whereas I, on the other hand--”

“--can have whoever you want as well,” he suggested, wanting to delve deeper into her mind to find out what she desired. “Just tell me who it is, wench,” he continued his interrogation, hoping she’d crack under the pressure and bare her heart to him.

The anger melting away, her features softened with her eyes taking on a dreamy faraway look. “The best sex for me would be with the man I’m in love with, but that’s never going to happen.” She snapped back to reality, her tone dulling down, her face downcast. “He doesn’t love me--” Flustered, she broke away mid-sentence, a street light at a distance grabbing her attention. 

His heart rose to meet his throat, settling somewhere around his Adam’s apple. “You’re in love?”

“Forget I said that,” she said hastily, patches of distress decorating her face, “I’m leaving, I--” 

Without finishing her sentence, she was about to flag down a taxi again, but he grasped her arm before she could escape and leave him in the lurch. “You’re in love, Brienne, admit it.”

Staring at her shoes, she evaded him. “I’ve got to go, it’s quite late--”

“With whom?” He had to know, because if he didn’t, his chest would explode and he’d be reduced to a thousand tiny bits, atoms floating in the universe.

“I don’t--”

He touched her chin, and she fell silent, and when she showed no resistance, he gently turned her face. His eyes searching hers, he asked, “Who is it, Brienne?” in a softer tone this time.

Her face said it all - the shine in her eyes, the quickening of her breath as soon as he’d touched her, the blush on her cheeks deepening as she met his gaze. The little twitch of her lips made him want to claim her mouth right there, and the adorable way in which her chin wobbled whenever she was emotionally overwhelmed begged him to pull her into his arms and enclose her in an embrace he wished to imprison her in forever.

“I don’t think I need to tell you, Jaime,” she softly admitted, blinking about a million times.

His heart soared, he wanted to sing, to shout from the rooftops that the woman of his dreams desired him in return, but wanting to hear it from her, he held back with a circumspect, “Tell me, Brienne.” When she continued to maintain a shy silence, he teased, “Is is Renly?” knowing she once had a massive thing for the irritatingly pretty Baratheon.

“I liked him,” she concurred with a slight nod, “but not enough to fall deeply in love with him. Just a crush, he was. A fleeting infatuation.”

“Hyle Hunt then--”

“Gods, no!” she exclaimed, infuriated.

Jaime refused to let go until she confessed. “Bronn?”

Her eyes reflecting the glow of the nearby lamp, she jerked free of his grip, the suddenness of her resistance telling him he’d gone a bit too far. “That’s enough, Jaime, I’m leaving.”

“He _ does _,” Jaime said, when she turned to leave, and she slowly turned on her heel, her stormy eyes demanding an explanation. 

“What do you mean?”

“You assumed he doesn’t love you, but you’re wrong, Brienne.” His arms went around her waist and he pulled her into an intimate hug. “He’s an idiot,” he confessed, “who lacks the courage to tell you how much he loves you.” Traces of a smile began to light up her face, and encouraged, he went on, “He _ does _want you, wench, as much as you do. He thinks of you night and day, dreams of you and hopes to spend the rest of his life with you.” He tilted his face to hers, intoxicated by the aroma of strawberry wafting off her lips and the perfume on her neck. “Considering, of course, that you’ll have him.”

She sank into his embrace, her palms on his chest, her fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“I tried to flirt, wench,” he reminded her, embarrassed by the pathetic attempt he’d made, “but you didn’t--”

Her brows met in surprise. “When?”

“When I complimented your hair and told you that you were fit to be a Lannister,” he highlighted, pained that his efforts had gone down the drain.

Her mouth fell open. “That was flirting? You insulted me. You said I lacked the looks for a Lannister--”

“Believe me, that was my way of telling you that I’ve been aching for you,” he put up a feeble defense. “As was my second failed bid at speaking my heart out when I gifted you my antique knife, a family heirloom which--”

“--you said would always be mine,” she recalled, an angelic smile brightening her face.

_ It’s yours, _ he had told her, only now realizing how much he truly meant it. _ It will always be yours. _

“It wasn't just the knife I was referring to, Brienne,” he admitted, meeting her loving gaze.

With no more to be said, nothing else to be explained, he brought his lips to hers, what followed it, an experience out of this universe. Strawberries had never tasted this wonderful before, the moon had never been this beautiful before, and he had never felt this much at peace with the world before. Her eyes, half-shut in bliss, were prettier than the moonlit night they stood bathed in and the vast expanse of oceans he usually compared them to, and her mouth, the sweetest he’d ever met. When she kissed him back, it was heaven on earth, her supple lips moving against his with just the right pressure, her tongue boldly winding itself in his, seeking control, proving to him that she was no novice in this art he considered himself an expert of. Her hand snaked up his neck and to his face, stroking him, caressing him, brushing against his stubble, and he pushed into her, hornier than he’d never been before, yearning for her more than he’d ever wanted anyone before.

“Prove it to me,” she commanded, blood rushing to her face when they’d taken a break to breathe. “Prove it, Jaime, that food can’t be compared to sex,” she repeated, her eyes darkening with lust and demand.

As if in response, his cock strained against his jeans, struggling for a release, and it was a miracle he was able to string meaningful words together. “My place is just around the corner. About two minutes,” he gasped, placing a few more hungry kisses on her mouth, not knowing how else to deal with her wandering hands that had crept underneath his shirt.

Wasting no more time they staggered away, arm in arm, supporting each other, struggling to keep their hands and lips off each other, hoping they wouldn’t succumb before they could make it indoors. An ordeal, it was, but they managed to survive their arduous walk home, taking advantage of the deserted street and the conveniently vacant lift to steal countless kisses and rip a few buttons on their way.

When at their destination, at last, Jaime pulled out his keys, clumsily fumbling with it, the tent in his pants and the woman in his arms distracting him, preventing him from finishing a task as basic as unlocking a door. 

A few failed attempts it took him, but succeed, eventually, he did. As soon he slammed the door shut, he grabbed her, plundering her mouth again, her tongue fluttering against his, and his hands trapped in her short curls. He pulled her against him, wanting to give her the world, to give her himself. He kissed her, he groped her, and he dragged her to the bedroom, and between an unstoppable stream of furious lip-locks, they somehow managed to clumsily undress each other, leaving a trail of clothes from the bedroom door to the bed.

“Show me, Jaime,” she panted into his mouth, slipping onto the bed.

She had to say no more. 

Pinning her to the mattress, he began nuzzling against her, rubbing his cheek into her soft throat, his lips finding her neck, nibbling and kissing his way up to her earlobe while his hands assumed custody of her breasts. “Your stubble,” she sighed, when he left a string of red patches along her sensitive skin, “it’s--it’s--” Her remaining words dissolved into a helpless gasp when he slipped his fingers between her legs. “Oh, my,” she cried, when he went in deeper, her eyes widening as she arched her hips to meet his rough thrusts. He kept going, and so did she, until she began shivering under him, gripping his arms tightly as her muscles began tightening around his fingers, her body shuddering with one last tremor before she relaxed in his arms.

Reaching out to his nightstand drawer, he pulled out a condom, and before she could recover, he slid into her, then waited a moment for the sensation to sink in, to let this feeling of union take him over completely. 

One thrust, and she moaned, and with the second, a lusty growl, it was, the sound an absolute antithesis to the sophistication she exuded. He pounded into her like a man insane, wanting her to see the stars, to prove a million things to her, to show her that they were meant to be together.

“_ Jaime! _ ” she screamed, her hips and thighs working a perfect rhythm to mate with his. Her hands lodged firmly onto his shoulders, she held on tight, her rapid breath washing over his face, her voice, her chanting of his name in his ear, urging him to claim her, showing him that he’d always be the one and the _only _one.

She said it once more, and again, and again, shouting out his name over and over until she came undone in his arms, her eyes blissfully shut, her lips, moist, swollen and slightly parted, her face red and glistening with sweat.

“Oh, Brienne,” he roared, exploding within her when he could take it no more. 

The world stood still for a while, like the earth had stopped spinning and everything around them blurred out of existence.

Then he kissed her again - her breasts, her throat, her chin… until he met the lips that still tasted of the dessert he’d been competing with. “How did I do?” he asked. “Better than your silly ice cream?”

She pondered his question, then tossed him a naughty smile. “Not bad,” she teased, her eyes dancing when she kissed the tip of his nose. “Nearly there, but you can do better.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers lazily combing through his hair. “Why don’t we try again, huh? We can keep going until you reach the levels of perfection, until we--”

Accepting the challenge, he silenced her with his mouth, eager to show her that he had every intention to attain the mastery he’d promised her.

**Author's Note:**

> A silly little mod-AU which, I hope, you've enjoyed. Thanks for reading!


End file.
